So my dearheart husband, MB, helps out every morning at Boheme for a couple hours before ambling off to his real job, his own business. Customers love him. He’s a big, personable, easygoing fellow — unlike his twitchy wife — and he’s a great conversationalist. He relaxes people. So he’s a hit. All the gay men just looooove him. Plus he got a new haircut about three weeks ago, so the schwing factor — always very high — is now through the roof. Which isn’t what this post is about, but, oh, well, I got a bit swept away and now he’s gonna read this and get a big head about it all. Calm thyself, MB.
Hm. Okay. Losing focus. See, I’m taking a day off from Boheme right now and it seems I forgot to — oh, nothing major — just leave my employee, C, the money for the cash drawer and she called my phone “39 times” she said, but I didn’t have it with me because I still haven’t figured out what cell phones are for, apparently, so she just sat for an hour and a half of business time, calling my cell phone, drinking coffee, and doing the puzzles in the paper. All of which I heartily endorse, because, well, what the heck is she supposed to do when dealing with an idiot boss? So when we finally got the message(S), MB called her back and said, “Hey — I’m sorry to hear your employers have become retarded.”
So I’m having that kind of day. Verrry mentally loose and glitchy.
Anyhoo. Back to Carla the Intuitive Clairvoyant. Didn’t I mention her?
She came in the other day for her meeting day, took one look at MB in all his glory, and said, “Oh! You got a haircut!”
MB just smiled. “Yeah.”
Later as she was leaving, she exclaimed some more and MB just smiled and I recognized the particular amused glint in his eye. I knew we were thinking the same thing. So Carla left, all floaty and high because of MB’s haircut. Or whatever.
I turned to him. “You got your hair cut three weeks ago.”
“Yup.”
“She’s here every week.”
“Yup.”
“She’s a clairvoyant.”
A brief pause.
“Guess she was just feeling my inner haircut.”
Genius.
I never get tired of Carla the Clairvoyant.
I love that one story wwhere she’s like, “You have an inner glow of happiness” to that one dude and he said, “Uhm, I’m actually quite depressed right now” …
Yeah. Haha! The poor guy. He had these Invisalign (sp?) braces and had just had an adjustment to them. You could just see the misery on his face and she’s all, “Oh, there’s a deep inner excitement” or whatever.
No. He’s totally miserable. Just LOOK at him. PLEASE. Sometimes, you don’t need to sense or perceive or feel it, it’s JUST RIGHT THERE! The thing with her is — I really do like her. She’s very nice and peppy. Yeah — that’s the right word — she’s a peppy clairvoyant. Maybe it’s all the bran she eats. And she likes to call me “Miss Tracey.” And being called “Miss” is never bad in my book.
Maybe she’s Carla The Backwards Clairvoyant?
As in, she can read the opposite of what people are thinking/feeling?
I’m telling you, you should write a book of short stories loosely based on Boheme regulars. You could do a backwards clairvoyant, and a “ginger pervy” guy (who turns out to be not so, maybe?), and someone who cleans houses for a particular cultural/religious subgroup that is very messy?
I mean, you’d have to do mega-disgusing so people wouldn’t realize it was them (or have it published posthumusly to all the characters enclosed therein), but it would make an interesting book.
LOL